Soulblade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Romance (A Dance of Fire and Shadow Book 4)
Soulblade: Chapter 30

A PATTERN OF MOVEMENT starts to erupt in the milling crowd on the beach below. A dozen dark shapes break away and run toward us, no doubt eager to snuff out our fiery beacon––even though the warning has already been given. Maybe intelligence is not the prime attribute of these predators.

Or maybe this is their rearguard to protect their backs against an attack from the rear. Either way, it divides their numbers a fraction more––even though Ithala still seems to hold doubts about Marin’s reckless attitude.

She is not the only one who feels this way.

I take Marin aside, not wanting to undermine her confidence any further.

“Marin, I know you’re Eldrin-pledged to defend the weak and all that, but is this actually going to work? I’ve seen what Mage-warriors can do when everything is going well, when your Soulblade connects you to your inner power and to your friends, instead of weighing you down like a lump of lead as has happened with you.”

A slow smile spreads across his face.

“No more!” He raises his sword until the crysteel gleams silver in the moonlight. “I felt something had changed after I recovered at the Elf-havens, but I could not be certain until the fight at the pirates’ lair just now. It was only a brief encounter, but enough for me to know the geas is lifted. I do not know why, but I do know that this coming battle is right and I can defend all of you if needed––even if I do not survive the effort.”

A flood of relief runs through me. Maybe, with Marin once more leading the attack, we will make it through this fight after all.

“I think I know why. You died in Duhokan, saving the lives of your Eldrin friends. I’m sure that is enough of a sacrifice to lift any embedded curse.”

He dips his head to plant a soft kiss on my lips.

“Maybe. And one of them is very much more than a friend.”

Deris’ sharp warning brings us both abruptly back to the immediate danger.

“Hold! Just a few more moments.”

The first two rowboats are being pushed out through the surf while at the same time the breathless swearing and grunting of the approaching attack force draws closer. With luck, the climb up the steep sand and gravel from the beach will tire them enough to give us some advantage in spite of their superior numbers.

Marin turns to Brac. “Stay close to Ithala while we draw this first band of thugs away from Deris.” He leaps down the steep descent and within moments he is cutting his way through the panting would-be attackers who are still slogging up the narrow trail. The three of us following him have an easier time of it, finishing off shocked and wounded pirates until the way down is clear again.

We reach the firm sand to replace that three of the boats have already made it out beyond the breakers, but there are almost thirty fighters still on the beach. Some are standing in the surf, wrestling with the last three boats as the breeze quickens and the waves crash and rise again above their heads. I can feel the wind starting to veer northward, carrying the three launched boats toward the headland instead of out to sea.

“It seems our friend Deris has learned fast.” Marin’s grin has an edge of mischief to it. “Maybe love has something to do with this rapid advancement.” He scans the crowd of dark figures ahead of us. “They have seen us now. Let them come to us. Stay close to me.”

He gives me that same reassuring smile, the one I remember so well from that terrifying cavalry charge in the battle with the Rapathian army.

“Are you ready for this?”

“I hope so.”

There is something chilling about that moment of quiet when you can see the glint of weapons as the enemy approaches. It is far more intimidating than the rush of heat and movement that follows––when there is no time to fear, no time to think beyond the need to survive. A quick glance to check that Brac and Ithala are guarding our flank as I draw both blades and step into position at Marin’s side. Only a dozen paces now between us and the attack.

And then they are on us in a clash of steel and blood.

The sharp tingling of the blade-song runs through my whole body, sharpening skill and speed and bringing power to my arm. The chaos of screams and movement around me seems to slow, leaving space for a keen awareness of Marin’s every move and feint. We fight, back to back in a dance of synchronicity, bonded by Soulblade power. At long last I rediscover the perfect coordination I once had with Shadow––except that now there is no underlying edge of doubt and distrust, only the powerful certainty that I can trust my friends with my life.

No sooner does the press of weapons ease when there is a sharp warning whistle from above us on the hillside.

Deris, telling us that something is changing.

The four of us pause to catch our breath, staring past the scattered corpses to what is happening out at sea. The ship has sailed out of danger and is already halfway back to the pillared entrance of Port Giltar. Deris is turning the shore-wind to drive the rowboats back onto the beach. A few minutes later he joins us, breathless.

“If they had landed on the headland rocks, they could have come around our flank and surrounded us with arrows from a distance.”

Marin glances sharply at the reinforcements. Three boatloads of armed men are fighting to stay upright as they crash through the breaking surf.

“The arrows were for their initial attack, and as a distraction while the grappling hooks were thrown?”

“I think so. I could not see the archers until they were through the surf and the spray. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. None of us could see such detail at all from that distance by moonlight.”

“I need to keep weaving if I can.” Deris steps away from us, picking up his windsong again, trying to raise the waves enough to tip the boats––but it is not to be. The pirates are too quick for him. A loud yell of command cuts across the roar of the breakers and the men leap over the side to wade through waist deep water, making for the shore.

“Quickly! We have to close in before any of them can draw a bow.” Marin runs across the wet sand and I follow, trying not to think wistfully about the full quiver at my back. I know Marin is aware that Ithala has no mailshirt and he is trying to protect her from an exchange of arrows, but even so…

Then we are splashing through the foam and the deadly dance starts all over again. The water impedes the nimble footwork I have always relied on and it is only Soulblade strength coming from Marin that saves me from a savage swipe that would have taken my arm off had I not dodged in time.

I can feel every move of both Marin and Brac, with a faint echo of Ithala’s movements coming through from her pairing with the big Northerner… but Deris has not joined the four of us in the waves. I glance back over my shoulder to see him still standing on the beach, drawing his bow.

My shoulders prickle with apprehension.

What is he doing? In this wind, with the four of us fighting at such close quarters?

And then I feel it as well as hear it, another rippling thread in the Soulblade connection between us as his first arrow takes out the grunt who is trying to cave in my skull with a heavy mace. Deris is using his windsong to guide every arrow to exactly where it is needed, taking down the threat to each of us just in time, until the salt water around us stains red and the empty boats lie beached on the sand.

Wearily, we splash through the waves to rejoin Deris.

Ithala surveys the scattered bodies in amazement.

“I have seen fighting, but never anything like this. Are all Samarians powerful sorcerers like you?”

Deris makes a courteous bow.

“Ithala, welcome to Samaran.”

MARIN HAS TO BEAT ON the gate of Terrell’s house for several tedious minutes before Bard shuffles to the hatch and peers out. He sounds even grumpier than the first time he greeted us.

“Who goes?”

“Eldrin to speak with Terrell.”

“By the Five, brother––it’s the middle of the night! Be reasonable.”

“Fine. Let us in and we’ll sleep first.”

More shuffling and grumbling before the heavy gate creaks open and Bard opens the inner door to the guest quarters we slept in on our outward journey. Every muscle in my body aches and it is bliss to curl up under the soft wolfskin cloak with Marin, never mind if Lupine insists on lying on my feet.

Next morning I can hear Marin’s conversation with Terrell before I have even opened my eyes. Retired Eldrin still seem to take their responsibilities seriously and Terrell is appalled at discovering that his team had missed such a large gang of smugglers for so long.

“We had been concentrating too much on the city itself instead of investigating the isolated houses and farms out on the moor. I am so sorry.”

As always, Marin is doing his best at encouragement.

“From what Ithala told us, there were barely a dozen of them stationed at that farmhouse before the invasion changed everything. As always in the chaos of war, the criminals of both castle and gutter replace ways to extort and profit. I fear we have more such problems waiting for us back in Maratic and we must leave today.”

“When do you need your horses and your hawk?”

“Very soon. We have someone to meet at the port before we leave.”

THE SHIP RIDES AT ANCHOR at the quayside and dockworkers hustle to unload the sacks of grain in the early dawn light. Marin and I hold back while Ethelyn and her mother hold a tearful reunion amidst all the jostling and barrowing. The windsinger pulls away and runs toward us. She clasps Marin’s hand.

“Thank you. You have given me back my mother, my life, my freedom.”

“What will you do now?”

“Ithala wants to see Corinium before continuing her journey to replace the Elf-havens in the Western forest. I will hold to my promise and stay with the ship until the captain can replace a replacement.” She turns a sad smile to Deris.

He suddenly looks awkward and for the first time since I have known him, he seems lost for words. I steer Marin away to give them some space.

“Maybe we should go back to Terrell’s house and load our provisions on the horses. Deris can easily catch up with us on the road, even if we ride fast.”

He does, but not until late that evening when we make camp in the hills. We had crossed the river before reaching Corinium and taken the little-known direct route through the mountains to the Vale of Eldaran. Luckily Marin knows his friend well enough to guess he would stay a while and had instructed Lupine to wait in Port Giltar to act as guide.

Deris says little that evening about where he has been and I decide not to ask. Still, it’s not hard to guess.

Next morning, Marin dispatches a message to Maratic with Tal. The gyrfalcon returns the following sunrise with the message still attached to her leg. Unopened and unread.

Marin frowns, unwilling as always to sow fear and doubt.

“We need to ride hard,” is all he says as he mounts. Luckily the horses are well rested and well fed and can deal with the pace he sets, pushing northward, fast into the mountains.

The forest trail is narrow but well maintained and direct. From what Brac says, I gather it is often used by the Eldrin to travel between Maratic and the port if they are looking for speed and silence. With Farang’s spies almost certainly still at large and the fate of Maratic still unknown, secrecy may well be our best weapon.

The next day Marin sends Tal once more. When the hawk returns this time, Deris holds her close to his heart, listening––if listening is the right word for the way his kind can intuit so much from both people and from creatures of the wild. After a few moments he releases the bird.

“I sense fear and confusion. We must approach Maratic cautiously, ready for a fight.”

We reach the high valley of Eldaran that evening. The place seems strangely quiet and untouched in the dying light. My heart aches at the thought of what we might replace at Maratic. All the time I have known him, Shadow has been wild and unpredictable and focused on his own agenda––but the feeling that he might have betrayed us all leaves a pain inside me that goes deeper than I expected.

We leave the horses tethered at the foot of the twisting trail that winds and climbs around the pinnacle of gnarled rocks. I follow Marin, approaching silently on foot, keeping to the evening shadows.